


Vhenan's Ha'lam (Heart's End)

by lejocu



Series: Vhenan's Ha'lam (Heart's End) [1]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Andrastianism (Dragon Age), Betrayal, Dalish Issues, Dark Humor, Desire Demons (Dragon Age), F/F, F/M, Guilt, Jealousy, Lavellan/ Krem marriage, Lavellan/Inquisitor is possessed, Lavellan/Krem romance, Lavellan/Solas Angst (Dragon Age), Love, Lust, M/M, Multi, No one knows Lavellan is a mage, On-Again/Off-Again Relationship, Regret, Religious Conflict, Templars (Dragon Age), Unknowingly helping Corypheus, dalish lavellan believes in the maker, deepest desire, desire demon possession
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-21
Updated: 2020-10-19
Packaged: 2021-03-06 23:41:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,025
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26437381
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lejocu/pseuds/lejocu
Summary: A young member of the Free Marches based Lavellan Clan is thrust into a world of deception and danger. With only one heart and a bloody past, Yerratoria Lavellan must face the machinations of an inquisition and the sacrifices no one else would contemplate. If love is just around the corner it has found Yerratoria too late. In love and war, danger lurks within and around.
Relationships: Cremisius "Krem" Aclassi/Female Inquisitor, Deshanna Istimaethoriel Lavellan & Female Lavellan, Female Inquisitor/Iron Bull, Female Lavellan/Solas, Lavellan/Solas (Dragon Age)
Series: Vhenan's Ha'lam (Heart's End) [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1921735
Kudos: 3





	1. Prologue: Family Ties

**Author's Note:**

> Well hello there reader, this is my first entry on Archive of Our Own and this fan fic has been brewing for a while. This is just the story prologue before Wrath of Heaven and is a brief glimpse at Lavellan's backstory. It might appear straightforward but I can assure you it is anything but. 
> 
> There will be several romances taking place but my favorite to write is the Krem and Yerratoria romance; it's sweet, precocious, and impulsive. So let the fun begin!

_We are the Dalish: keepers of the lost lore, walkers of the lonely path. We are the last of the Elvhenan, and never again shall we submit._

9:28 Dragon:

Frenilan and his wife, Yeranna watched quietly in their home as the shems had barged into the camp. The air felt empty of the summer heat as the humans kicked and pulled the clan into the middle of the encampment. Frenilan looked through the tent to see them and stood back quickly.

“They’re wearing armor and they’re not military…” Frenilan shook his head.

“It has to be templars.” Yeranna said from the corner near her husband.

Fear hit their faces at the same time. Their daughter, Yerratoria, was still not home. She had gone off to learn how to hunt with her uncle Ryshanil just an hour ago. It was the perfect time to fish and scout for hares and other small game. Yerratoria had taken to hunting quickly and it made her parents proud. Now neither of them thought about their pride, but they did worry about what the templars were up to.

“Where is the mage?” One of the templars began questioning the elves that were already gathered. “You lot love to hide your own. Best you give him up now before we catch him.” The Keeper was being walked into the middle of camp with templars flanking her on either side. Keeper Lyriwill was an older woman with streaks of silvery white running through her dark red hair. Her first, Istimaethoriel, was being marched out behind her. Behind them, Rysh was bound and two young templars held swords out towards him on either side.

“Isa'ma'lin…” Rysh was trying to stay calm but Frenilan knew his magic was best when it came to blood. “If the templars even poke him they are in for a surprise.” Frenilan whispered to Yeranna.

“Where is Yerratoria? Can you see her?” Before her husband could answer another templar ripped the flap of their tent open and demanded them to step out. They held each other close as the templar walked them out and made them stand with their clan.

Lyriwill was being questioned by the templar who was shouting before. His long face, wide red bearded jaw, and dark blue eyes struck the hostage Keeper and told her all she needed to know. _He is here for blood. He won’t leave without my second._ Lyriwill looked to Rysh as he approached with the templars. When Rysh was walked towards the center of town the sharp eyed templar took his great sword from behind his back and eased into a confident stance.

“Apostate, blood mage, murderer. You killed two of my holy brothers. You will now face the Maker by my authority.” The look on the templar’s face was too determined to become unfocused by his assignment.

Rysh was brought to his knees while another templar grabbed hair from the top of his head and pulled forward. “No!” Rysh began to fight as much as he could in his position. “I’m no murderer, I swear!” Rysh begged but it was only heard by his clan as they watched on in horror. The red haired templar walked towards Rysh and pulled his arms forward to bring his giant steel sword above his head. Rysh begged, the Keeper begged, even Frenilan joined them. Before the templar could bring his sword down a thunderous roar filled the air around the gathered elves and the templars holding them hostage. A bolt of lightning shot out of the middle of the sky and struck the templar. He made to deflect the magic, but he was hit before he could bring up the ward he knew.

The red haired templar’s gurgled cries filled the ears of everyone gathered. As the templar fell unconscious and burnt from the magical strike, the figure of a small elf girl appeared where he had been standing. The young girl was frightened as she gathered another burst of lightning around her. It looked primal and unimpeded by years of focused practice. The other templars knew that she wasn’t trained by the way the magic flowed erratically around the young elf. They began to place their swords on the ground and started to approach the girl.

“Yerratoria!” Yeranna cried as her husband held her back.

Lyriwill walked forward and grabbed a knife from the unconscious templar’s body. She quietly paced to Rysh and helped him stand before running forward to stop the templars that were still approaching one of her clan. Lyriwill let out a rage filled cry and launched at the templars, as she did, the three nearest to her threw spells at the Keeper. One of them grabbed a sword and drove it through Lyriwill’s side. She fell back, eyes clouded over and void of life.

Rysh followed Lyriwill and grabbed the dagger she took from the templar. He cut his arm in three long slashes and cried out in anger as the remaining templars rushed to stop the mage from finishing the ritual. It was too late. Rysh’s voice changed into a distorted laugh as his body was pulled apart from the demon clawing its way to fight from inside him.

“You will all perish now!” The demon attacked the templars and tore their bodies to shreds.

Istimaethoriel summoned a barrier around herself and began to summon an ice sigil as she approached the demon that consumed Rysh. It saw her and began to stalk the mage as she dropped the sigil and began summoning another. Istimaethoriel did not stop at two, she kept summoning sigils over and over until the demon was slowly retreating.

The first, and now the Keeper of Clan Lavellan, Istimaethoriel forgot that Yerratoria was so close to the demon. Before she could cast another barrier around the child the demon grabbed the young girl and raked it’s claws across her face. The girl screamed and cupped the wound but the magic around her was still flowing. Yerratoria cried out again and a wave of energy blasted the hungry demon back. It fell into one of Istimaethoriel’s vicious sigils and froze. Rage filled cries lingered in the air.

Yerratoria fell to the ground and Istimaethoriel looked over the carnage.

“We can’t stay here. We have to move quickly!” Istimaethoriel ordered her clan to start to pack their belongings. Her attention turned back to the now unconscious girl who fought the demon. The girl’s midnight black hair pooled around her little face in cascading waves. She was still emanating magic but Istimaethoriel knew it wasn’t enough to cause her any immediate harm.

The child’s parents ran to their daughter and her father rushed to hold her. He didn’t seem to care about the potential danger she put him in. It was apparent from the surprise and fear on her father’s face that he knew she might have been gifted with magic. The realization that she would not take up his mantle made it difficult to be calm.

“Did you see that Frenilan?” Istimaethoriel asked the saddened man. He nodded at the new Keeper but his eyes held anger. He looked to the spot his brother had been standing in just minutes ago and he looked at his daughter again.

“You can’t let her become like him. I can’t help her with this, this…” Tears filled Frenilan’s eyes as he watched his unconscious daughter.

“I’m sorry Frenilan. I wasn’t aware of the blood magic Ryshanil was using.” Istimaethoriel rested a hand on the mourning elf’s shoulder. “I’m not going to tell you she will live happily, but someday she might replace me. We need all the strength we can gather. Summoning that level of magic without training would require more strength than even I am capable of channeling.”

“Then teach her and show her how to make them pay.”

9:41 Dragon:

In a clearing deep in the lush forests of the Free Marches a clan of elves encamped. Keeper Deshanna Istimaethoriel Lavellan, paced around her large tent as she thought about the conversation she had with her first, Yerratoria Lavellan, only two hours before. She worried about Yerratoria for several reasons.

First off, Yerratoria was a young mage, secondly, she was one of the Dalish. It would be one thing to just be an elf or a mage but to be that combined with the beliefs of her people could lead her to danger. Though, her first was not naïve, it was familiar to feel for the young one. Yerratoria was born to two hunters, they loved her and taught her well, all the while they were blissfully unaware of their daughter’s gift for magic. That happiness came at a grave cost.

After the horrible night when Istimaethoriel was made Keeper, she vowed to protect the mages in her clan with the ferocity of the dragons of legend. When Lyriwill, the last Keeper of the Lavellan clan, was killed defending her second, a blood mage named Ryshanil, it left a lifelong lesson for Istimae. “Never again.”

Istimae forced herself to stop thinking about the danger Yerratoria was in while in the presence of the templars around the Temple of Sacred Ashes. _She is more than you give her credit for, you taught her everything after all._ Istimae thought to herself. Then a smile pulled at her lips as she thought about the stories her first would have when she returned.

_______________________________

The Conclave at the Temple of Sacred Ashes was a truly beautiful sight to behold. Templars waited patiently by the temple’s entrance to guide clerics, mages, and anyone else interested in finding a peaceful solution to the tenuous situation into the gathered masses. At any moment, the templars could strike and all the mages in the area would be at their mercy, again. Yet if the mages were provoked to act, they would reign death down upon the templars and anyone else that stood in the path to freedom from the tyranny of templar rule.

Eyes shining the color of ripe plums as the sun’s first rays touched their flesh watched the procession behind a dark druffalo skin cape. Symbols of ancient noble houses and the people that raised them were noted by those eyes. Yerratoria Lavellan scanned the crowd and found the woman she was ordered to follow and listen to.

Murmurs and sighs died down as Divine Justinia and her entourage walked into the Temple of Sacred Ashes. Behind them several nobles, holy men and women, and commoners alike gathered to glimpse the elder woman as she walked by. The Divine walked with the confidence that only a woman devoted to the Maker could carry. Her shoulders back, chin held high but not to demean those who watched her. The Divine’s eyes focused ahead, the lines drawn around her pale eyes and lips told Yerratoria the elder woman was anything except full of herself. _She looks terrified._ Yerratoria thought she might note the observation in her letter to Istimaethoriel, but that would have to wait.

Behind the Divine, a group of men and women in armor were making their way out of the gathered crowd to follow Justinia. They blended in with the templar’s gathered to protect their beloved Divine but Yerratoria knew better than to believe they belonged. She was responsible for the next decision she made.

Yerratoria tore through the crowd and wound her way out of view. Drawing on the magic she reserved for times like this, a cloak of shadows graced its way around her legs and up her torso. She removed the druffalo skin cape before stepping fully into the shadows and stalked the group into the Temple.

Further and further the group went until a scream erupted from the Divine. “No! What are you doing? I know you, please stop!” Justinia cried out and Yerratoria ran after the screaming woman. Through one winding hall and down another, up and out to another side of the temple, and far from prying eyes the group continued further. Following the rushed footsteps was easy enough but the farther into the temple that Yerratoria followed, the harder it would be to escape unnoticed if she was in danger.

Screams filled the room Yerratoria was walking towards. She resigned to listen at the heavy wooden panels and wait until she was sure this was no lure for spies like her.

“Now is the hour of our victory. Bring forth the sacrifice.” The male voice that spoke drew Yerratoria closer to the closed doors. She wanted to meld into the wood and look upon the face of the man whose voice held such powerful commanding tones. “Keep the sacrifice still.” Yerratoria’s hands rested on the handles of the wooden doors as the magic around her form resettled.

The Divine screamed again and yelled “Someone help me!” Yerratoria was tempted to turn from the doors and save herself before other humans found them. She took her hands off the handles and made to walk out of the hallway and back up the steps before the ground beneath her rocked violently and the stone walls shook. She fell to her knees and watched as the hallway she had walked through collapsed.

“Someone help me!” The Divine screamed again.

Yerratoria knew she no longer had a choice. She opened the doors and began to process the events unfolding before her. “What’s going on here?” Is what she managed to stay while staring at the Divine. The guards surrounding Divine Justinia were not just any armed mercenaries. They wore the distinct armor of the Grey Wardens. The disfigured form standing in front of the Divine seemed to not even notice the disruption until the Divine threw one of her arms out in front of her body and managed to hit the disfigured man’s clawed hand. A glowing sphere fell from the figure’s clutches and rolled onto the floor in Yerratoria’s direction.

The odd yet beautiful green glow surrounding the sphere held Yerratoria’s attention. It was nothing like she had ever seen, and yet, she felt the extreme magic coursing through it. The elven spy scrambled towards the glowing sphere and managed to reach it before anyone else. She threw blasts of charged energy at the surrounding Grey Wardens and managed to retreat to the doorway as a rush of excruciating pain shot threw her left hand still gripping the eerily glowing sphere. Yerratoria began to steady herself.

The Divine collapsed to the ground and the disfigured beast of a man stalked towards Yerratoria with a snarl distorting his torn and twisted face. He reached for the magical object as dark swirling smoke erupted from the sphere. The light emitting from it grew brighter and brighter until everything in the room was enveloped by its blinding ethereal light.

The smell of burning wood and the stench of melting flesh filled Yerratoria’s nostrils as her eyes fluttered opened. Cold, roughed stones and packed clumps of dirt pressed into the cheek of Yerratoria’s face as she tried to get up. Her arms felt too weak to move anywhere and searing pain crippled her left hand. Yerratoria could faintly hear shouting and footsteps but beyond that she could barely register anything other than the high-pitched ringing that rushed from one side of her head to the other.

Consciousness was too high a burden with so little energy left at her disposal. Even if Yerratoria used all her remaining strength to open her eyes, it did not seem to be worth it. Silence fell and Yerratoria willingly let it wash over her as all semblances of reality fell away and darkness consumed all her thoughts. She swore she could hear her father’s singing…


	2. Prisoner

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yerra meets Cassandra and reminisces about her past relationship with Keeper Istimae.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi Everyone who has painstakingly scrolled through the archive and found my fan fic, thank you for continuing this journey with me!

_The song was hummed the same way, and yet the voice softly and warmly singing was different._ At first, Yerra was sure she was home. As the burden of consciousness ebbed slowly at Yerra’s mind, it became apparent that she was not with the rest of Clan Lavellan. Worse still, the soft and gentle hands that expertly tended her wounds were sometimes familiarly nimble. Other times, another set of equally professional though calloused hands cared to check Yerra’s scabs and bandages.

Later, when Yerra’s eyes opened, it was because she was cold and shaking on a dark damp floor.

“Seeker! Seeker, I implore you to consider wisely.”

“Ah, the apostate, or is it your highness? Don’t think I won’t put you in iron’s if you make a habit of getting in my way. Now, move.”

“No. I will not. Your prisoner is not recovered enough for one of your interrogations!”

“We don’t have time on your side. Fetch Adan and hastily heal the prisoner. You have until tomorrow morning.”

“I appreciate your understanding, Seeker. Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me yet. We still must…”

Yerra’s mind was still too weak. Her eyelids fell again with the blessing of rest following swiftly.

The next time Yerra woke up she felt her arms tensing, restrained by thick wrist irons attached to her like a boulder holding her down. Four men, in fine leather armor, held swords close to Yerra’s face and watched her diligently.

Of all the people the young Lavellan thought she’d end up conversing with during her visit to the Temple of Sacred Ashes, Cassandra Pentaghast was not and would never have been Yerra’s top choice. Cassandra hadn’t been alone for the tense encounter with Yerra. Behind Cassandra stood someone that Yerra had been explicitly ordered to avoid, Leliana, the Left Hand to Divine Justinia. In equal measures of combative aggression and downplayed compassion the two interrogated Yerra briefly. Eventually, everyone involved realized that asking Yerra over and over if she was responsible for the recent catastrophic events at the Temple would get them nowhere.

With every fiber of strength that Yerra had she focused on the slightly moldy scent to the damp air in her confinement. The way Cassandra shifted from one foot to the other uncomfortably, as if any moment could lead to danger. Leliana had gone ahead of them to assist her agents. For what, Yerra was not sure, but she wouldn’t let the humans use her ignorance as an excuse to lay blame on her. The less the humans knew the better.

As Cassandra led Yerra into the blaring bright light of day the air filled with the scent of nature as the Fall was ready to embrace the warm earth of Spring. The trees had begun to change and sleep, the rodents were emboldened to scrap for food, and the grass seemed to heave in on itself with a welcomed resignation.

Yerra could not help it but to watch the Seeker as she led them both into the valley around the area known as Haven. They talked at length with Yerra intentionally throwing barbed comments at Cassandra, who was just as eager to respond in kind. Even with their differences Cassandra made a better traveling companion to Yerra than the majority of clan Lavellan. It couldn’t hurt, at least not in Yerra’s mind, that Cassandra was good to look at.

The very thought had Yerra beaming but shaking her head and laughing to herself. The Seeker was quite a sight but Yerra doubted she ruminated over anything even slightly romantic. In Yerra’s mind it appeared as though Cassandra was most likely incapable of intimacy.

This was somewhat of a pity to the young Lavellan being as her favorite games and conversation centered on intimate trivialities. Yerra was keen and confident with her affections, snarky and forward and wholly invested in those that filled her time be it woman or man, she was never very picky. These thoughts would have to wait until after the immediate dangers that loomed around Yerra like vultures seeking rotting flesh had been settled.

Upon first leaving her dark confinement below the village of Haven, it was evident that even if the mark on her left hand wouldn’t be her death, several scowling humans could. Yerra was always cautious and quiet when in the company of humans. This stemmed from a mixture of fear and paranoia, and the possibility that she might be blamed for anything crime related. It’d happened twice when Yerra passed through human territories in the Marches.

Keeper Istimae had warned Yerra enough to be more cautious than she’d taken seriously. Unfortunately, this meant that Yerra had been a resident of a human jail for two weeks. The second incident would’ve ended in bloodshed if a young human woman hadn’t intervened and stopped a mob from knocking every tooth loose from Yerra’s skull.

That was the same time that a young human man had torn open one of Yerra’s ears with his teeth and had taken a big chunk out of top side her right ear. These were great lessons in avoiding a painful demise, either by starving alone in a cold jail cell, or by almost getting beaten to death. The pain wasn’t even the feeling that Yerra hated most. It was the helplessness and the realization that she’d never be alone with Istimae again. Fearing that she might never hold her Keeper close and whisper unsaid secret feelings.

Keeper Istimae was too worried for Yerra and always fretting over her scrapes and missed lessons like a parent. It was too much, and it was the reason they weren’t as close as they’d been in the past. Yerra hated to admit it but she wished that Istimae trusted her the same way Yerra trusted the Keeper. The young Lavellan never held that against Istimae but she also knew better than to believe that whatever they had would continue again. The Keeper was too focused and protective of the entire clan to let personal feelings cloud her judgement and duty. This was why Yerra chose to go to the Conclave. She was the only member of the Lavellan clan that Istimae could afford to lose. Because if Yerra wasn’t around it meant the rest of the clan was safe and hidden away.

The smile Yerra’d been donning for the last few minutes faded instantly at the thought that the Keeper could dismiss her feelings so freely. While continuing to follow Cassandra, the young elf decided against watching her so appraisingly. There were others that could fill Yerra’s time instead of the Seeker, the Keeper, or anyone who Yerra could easily become attached to. Besides, brothels had decent enough liquor and plenty of company that would look passed Yerra’s scars and Dalish tattoos for a handful of coppers.

It wasn’t until a bridge the Seeker and Yerra were walking across collapsed and exploded into flying chunks of stone and soldier’s limbs that Yerra refocused on surviving this encounter. As the very unlikely pair, Dalish elf and human Seeker, fell onto the frozen lake below the bridge the sky burst with bright green light and chunks of rock and demonic creatures began to fall to the ground not far from the now broken bridge.

The Seeker did not hesitate in slicing open the nearest demons before they could lash out and eviscerate her. Yerra was still disoriented and too hungry to join Cassandra as swiftly. Just entering a fight without a weapon would be dangerous under normal circumstances but this was anything but normal. As Yerra stood up and shook small pieces of debris from her hair, face, and coat a flicker of refracted light caught in the corner of her eye. Following the mirrored light, Yerra found a pair of crude daggers lodged into the snow and ice where a crate that was originally on the bridge now lay in an array of jagged splinters.

Cassandra yelled and dove forward to throw a demon into the air like a small feathery obstacle instead of the charging monstrosity it was. Before Yerra could yell to the Seeker to turn or parry the claws of two more demons they were upon Cassandra. With every instinct yelling at the young elf to flee and leave the Seeker to the brutal fate that awaited, Yerra had to shake it off. She grabbed the nearest dagger and threw it into the air in an angled sweep. While grabbing the other as the first dagger sang through the air Yerra whispered to herself and settled in the shadows as she sent a prayer to June to guide her blades and asked for Mythal to keep her hands steady. She also prayed to the human god, the Maker, hoping he might forgive her past indecencies and keep Cassandra unharmed if it turned out that the Chantry was right the whole time.

This was another reason Istimae and Yerra fought and eventually called their relationship off. Yerra was too willing to believe in the Chant of Light and the Elven gods. It was too much for Yerra’s parents to handle as well. Eventually, solitude among the trees and creatures of the forest were more comforting than the Lavellan Clan. Even if Yerra never explicitly denounced her Dalish faith it was just as damning to have faith in both religious aspects.

There were several times that Yerra had to defend her ideas to members of the Lavellan Clan. It made her uncomfortable to live amongst humans but even more so to live amongst other elves who would shun her for something so trivial. This never stopped Yerra from whispering a silent verse, or two, from the chant.

“June guide my focus…In the long hours of the night,” Blood sprayed Yerra’s face as she ripped into the throat of one of demon’s approaching the already entrenched Seeker. “When hope has abandoned me,” The sound of bone cracking and a bloodcurdling growl of pain filled the air as Yerra watched Cassandra headbutt another demon and bring her shield down on the creature’s chest. As it screamed, gurgled for air, and reached for the Cassandra the young elf brought her dagger down into it’s heart. “I will see the stars and know…”

“Your light remains.” Cassandra finished the verse and looked over the corpses of the demons. She barked at Yerra to disarm and it was not something the young elf was eager to do. This led to a tense moment where Cassandra almost brought the edge of her blade to Yerra’s face, but the idea and motion stopped before the Seeker fully committed to the action. She admitted that it was safer if Yerra kept the daggers, at least for the immediate future.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this one is short and cuts off right before meeting Varric and Solas for a reason. If anyone has questions about the fan fic so far I'll answer as soon as I can. In the meanwhile, the next chapter will be a brief dichotomy of the my lore for the story as well as descriptions of characters already mentioned. This includes; Former Keeper Lyriwill Lavellan, Keeper Istimae - First to the Former Keeper, Ryshanil Lavellan - Second to the Former Keeper, Frenalin and Yeranna - Yerratoria's/ Yerra's parents.


	3. CHARACTER DICHOTOMY/ SHORT TIMELINE

All listed Characters have already been introduced/ mentioned, if not by name by reference

(Original Characters)

Frenilin Lavellan – Profession: Hunter, Role: Inquisitor’s Father

Yeranna Lavellan – Profession: Hunter, Role: Inquisitor’s Mother

Ryshanil Lavellan (Deceased) – Profession: Keeper’s Second, Role: Inquisitor’s Uncle/ Frenilin’s Brother

Yerratoria Lavellan – Profession: Keeper’s First (kept at a distance), Role: Herald of Andraste/ Inquisitor

Lyriwill Lavellan (Deceased) - Profession: Former Keeper, Role: Former Leader of Clan Lavellan

Enilis Skohlgren – Profession: Former Templar, Mecenary Commander, Role: Survivor of the attack on Clan Lavellan, Antagonist

(Cannon Characters)

Deshanna Istimaethoriel Lavellan – Profession: Keeper of Clan Lavellan, Role: Inquisitor’s mentor, ex-love interest

Cassandra Pentaghast – Profession: Seeker, Former Right Hand to the Divine, Role: Advisor to Inquisitor

Varric Tethras – Profession: Storyteller, Role: Friend to Inquisitor

Solas – Profession: Mage/Apostate, Role: Rival to Inquisitor

Leliana – Profession: Spy Master, Rogue, Role: Advisor to Inquisitor

Roderick Asignon – Profession: Grand Chancellor of Chantry, Role: Liaison between remnant Chantry and emerging Inquisition

\-----

Breakdown of Timeline in Story (so far):

9:28 Dragon: Yerratoria is 12 years old.

Lyiriwill and Ryshanil die in a conflict with a traveling group Templars.

9:41 Dragon: Yerratoria is 25 years old.

Temple of Sacred Ashes is destroyed.

Breach opens over the ruins of Temple of Sacred Ashes.


	4. Prisoner Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cassandra doubts that Lavellan is innocent and guides Solas, Varric, and Yerra to the ruins of the Temple of Sacred Ashes.   
> Yerratoria secret is discovered by the group.   
> (This is a Cassandra POV chapter.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a very long chapter, sorry if it reads repetitively but I wanted to set up some events as they happened with the game cannon. Also, to establish Yerratoria's sense of humor and the hostility from Cassandra and Solas toward Yerratoria.

Cassandra was unsure how to broach the subject of how the prisoner, a Dalish elf, knew verses of the chant and actively recited them in battle. During two brief interrogations and an examination of the elf’s belongings nothing familiarly Andrastian was identified among the few letters and scrolls the elf carried. This was why Cassandra remained stern with the young elf woman. Even if they shared common ground, this elf couldn’t remember how or why she fell out of the breach at the Temple of Sacred Ashes. Cassandra felt it was still possible the woman was responsible for the destruction.

The elf, Yerratoria Lavellan, walked ahead of Cassandra and occasionally killed a demon before it became aware and attacked them. While questioning the prisoner briefly, Cassandra realized the woman was just as hesitant to speak. The intricate tattoos that began on the prisoner’s forehead and traveled down the sides of her face barely hid the aged but still largely present scars that etched down the right side of her visage. The prisoner also had a broken nose that healed at a relatively normal position. The way her nostrils titled slightly more to one side of her face than the other made the damage clearly visible.

The pair took down another group of snarling demons. Cassandra led the way up a steep flight of stone steps. The topic of the elven spy’s faith seemed too tempting not to broach so Cassandra began to question Yerratoria in a softer tone than she had used to get the elf this far.

“I wasn’t aware that the Dalish believed in the Maker.”

“They usually don’t.” Yerratoria responded in a mildly bitter tone.

“Then…?”

“Then what? Don’t tell me you’ve never met an elf that believes in Andraste?”

“Well, I have but they usually live in an alienage.”

“I can’t say I’ve ever lived in one of those ghettos. My faith is my own and I believe in the Maker because I choose to.” The inflection in the elf’s voice slightly lifted from cattiness to give Cassandra a genuine answer.

Now the Seeker was more than curious, she wanted to understand this odd elf and what might have driven her to cause the destruction at the Temple. Afterall, Cassandra still was not convinced that Yerratoria was innocent. “Doesn’t that cause you grief when you’re amongst your clan?”

“I-…” The elf chose to stop speaking before she said something Cassandra could tell was too personal to explain to the woman who had been interrogating her.

“Forget about it. I didn’t mean to pry.” This was not true. Cassandra intended to know as much as she could. Even though she could tell Yerratoria was done with the topic it continued to plague the Seeker’s thoughts.

“That’s not true though, is it? Otherwise, we wouldn’t be here killing demons and avoiding that disaster falling from the sky.” It appeared that the spy was good at deducing Cassandra’s intentions. Yerratoria smirked at Cassandra in a playful way but the Seeker rolled her eyes and continued to march up the staircase.

“We better keep going…We’re getting close to the rift. You can hear the fighting.”

“Who’s fighting?”

“You’ll see soon. We must help them.”

Cassandra kept a persistent pace as she led Yerratoria to the top of the stairs. They both jumped down from a stepless ledge to join a group embroiled in the thick of fighting off demons around a small tear in the Veil. This rift was spewing demons consistently. Whenever Cassandra slew one demon two more would claw through the tear. Two soldiers helped Cassandra and in unison they mowed down the onslaught of vile creatures.

The Seeker scolded to herself but was relieved to see Varric Tethras, the dwarven prisoner from Kirkwall constantly loading and firing his crossbow into the depths of several demons. He never missed and never stopped to take a breath. Cassandra would have been appreciative and admiring of Varric if he had not been a complete nuisance.

Across the narrow battlefield from Varric stood the elven apostate that Cassandra was not relieved to see. He had taken every opportunity to agitate the Seeker on several occasions. It was not that he intended to, this much Cassandra knew, but it was still the truth. Solas, of an isolated group of elves who he refused to name as Dalish, or otherwise. Every moment seemed to be filled with a presumptuous attempt to drive the Seeker up a wall in a wag state.

The hours leading up to this morning when Yerratoria Lavellan was to be interrogated and forced to answer was another example of the annoyance that Solas posed for Cassandra. It was Solas who tended to and mended the various cuts and wounds that had been inflicted on Yerratoria. When Adan went to fix a remedy or salve it was Solas who kept the people of Haven from slitting the elf woman’s throat. In a twisted way, Cassandra was still aggravated but heartened to see Solas fighting along with Varric and the soldiers.

The demons eventually stopped pouring out of the tear in the Veil. This was long enough for everyone gathered to catch a breath and wipe gory smears of blood from their eyes. Cassandra watched as Solas left his position from the battle to approach Yerratoria. “Quickly, before more come through!” Unimpeded by the surprise and confusion worn on the Dalish woman’s face, Solas continued to take hold of her wrist and lifted it towards the rift.

Yerratoria gasped as energies gathered around her left hand. An ark of odd green glowing magic that matched the tear sprung from her palm. After only a few seconds the strange magics died away as the rift appeared to seal itself shut.

Taking her hand back and shifting away from Solas, the Dalish woman looked from the spot where the rift had just been to stare at the apostate. Cassandra wiped her sword on her leg and approached them. Everyone was still alive, for now.

“What did you do?” Yerratoria was in a state of awe and curiosity as she continued to stare at Solas. Behind it, Cassandra had the impression that the woman was ready to panic if anything else as blatantly crazy were to happen. Afterall, when the elf was first brought into Haven’s underbelly she was in a state of shock and mumbling out nonsensical words and phrases. Whatever Yerratoria experienced was beyond her comprehension. Cassandra could not read the elf’s mind so she could only speculate as to why.

“ _I_ did nothing. The credit is yours.” Solas spoke honestly but there was a tinge of what Cassandra could only guess was resentment in his voice. This might have been because Yerratoria was Dalish, or not a mage, or for any number of other reasons. There was anger in the veiled and tight smile that Solas lifted onto his face. This worried Cassandra more than the dark look in Solas’s eyes.

After introductions were made Cassandra led the group down the shallow mountain and into the valley. Yerratoria followed close behind while Varric and Solas kept a meandering distance. As soon as demons appeared Varric and Yerratoria would disappear into the stealthy shadows and reappear to maim or eviscerate the outlying creatures.

Cassandra kept her shield up and charged the bigger targets. She would swivel on impact and blood and limbs sprayed the area around her. The others held their ground well while occasionally falling back to regain mana or stamina to keep fighting. In a semi-harmonic unison, the group attacked without fail.

It was while Yerratoria and Varric were exploring the area that all hells broke loose. Cassandra and Solas stayed back from a set of rocky stairs as Yerratoria checked the still warm corpses of few soldiers that were camped around a small fire. She bent down to check one soldier. The unfortunate soul had fallen face first into the snow-covered ground below him. Yerretoria was checking his pockets as a pack of demons sprung out of darkness from the surrounding trees.

Varric fired off a bolt before reloading Bianca but the first shot missed it’s intended target and almost clipped the right side of Yerratoria’s face. Without thinking, or hesitating, the elven woman was gone. She’d teleported a brief step away from certain harm. Cassandra titled her head to the side in confusion and looked to Solas who was equally as uncertain of what had just happened.

“Jeez, Varric. That wasn’t the introduction to a lady I’d usually enjoy.”

“Well, good thing you had that trick, or I’d be agreeing with you.”

“What-what are you talking about?”

“You were there and then you weren’t.”

Everyone stayed silent for a moment. Before Yerratoria could say something to dismiss what the other three members of the group had seen Cassandra stalked up to her. The Seeker raised her blood-soaked sword and pointed it at Yerratoria’s face.

“Explain now, or I’ll make sure you end up in a cell when this is over.”

“I…I…It’s not what you think, okay?” Yerratoria held up her hands in a surrendering pose and backed herself into the stone wall behind her.

“Then answer me!”

“Cassandra-.” Solas went ahead of Cassandra and touched a hand to her sword arm. “Enough, this woman has done nothing but cooperate.”

“That’s really funny considering she used magic but never said anything about being an apostate!”

“Oh fuck, here we go again…” Varric said with an exasperated sigh. He wiped away blood from Bianca’s firing mechanism in doting motions. “Why don’t we deal with the demon’s big glowing asshole before mowing down the only person that can help us?”

“No! She must explain!” 

“I can’t!” Yerratoria raised her shoulders in a deafening show of confusion. “Listen, it is magic but usually it’s… I stop it from coming out. I’m not an apostate, at least, not one you should fear.”

“But you have magic! How is it that none of us detected this before?”

“I have a way to make sure it doesn’t flare up. I used a potion to make sure my abilities wouldn’t harm anyone when I was at the temple. It must’ve not worn off until this morning, or yesterday.”

“That’s very dangerous. Are you sure you know what you’re doing?” Solas spoke up with almost as much anger as Cassandra. “You realize suppressing natural magical power can kill the practitioner?”

“Yes, but I’ve been taking this potion for most of my life. I had to or the Templars would’ve found me again.”

“Well this just gets worse and worse. Maybe you shouldn’t give them any more ammunition?”

“Shut up Varric!” Cassandra and Solas yelled in unison.

“If you’re a mage then you put everyone around you in danger by not making that fact abundantly clear. Cassandra has every right to question you. I find it difficult to believe that with or without magic you are responsible for the Breach. This is nonetheless a matter of importance.” Solas continued to rant for another ten excruciatingly long minutes. Mainly, about how unreasonable and morally corrupt it was to hide a part of one’s “fundamental nature”.

Cassandra heard enough from Solas and more than enough from Yerratoria, who now, was hiking up a steep path with a grunt of pure anger escaping her lips every couple of seconds. The Seeker almost felt guilty, but she was to prideful to admit that she was sorry to Yerratoria. Cassandra kept pace behind the Dalish woman and barely looked back at Solas or Varric.

It was Varric that broke the tense silence. “You know Seeker, I have to say, you really know how to pick ‘em.”

“And what are you referring to?”

“Oh, aside from failing to find the Hero of Fereldan and the Champion of Kirkwall? You kidnapped me and imprisoned that poor elf. Shit, I wouldn’t be surprised if you can’t understand where I’m going with this!”

“Then make your point, dwarf.”

“Okay, fine. This whole ‘threaten and beat’ mantra you have used since I’ve met you hasn’t gotten you too far has it?”

“I don’t know, a little torture here, add a few threats, throw in some sexual tension and you have me.” Cassandra could not believe what she was hearing. No, she did not want to hear it. Yerratoria had taken the moment to shock everyone again. Worse still, it was Solas who laughed first.

“My, my Sweet Maker’s ass that was pure gold!” Varric chortled out between bouts of laughter.

“I know right? I couldn’t help myself.”

“Oh please, will all of you take this seriously for a moment?”

“Do we have to?”

Cassandra almost growled but settled for clenching her fists at her sides. “Let’s just get to the forward camp.”

As they continued to walk up the path, the mark on Yerratoria’s left hand flared erratically with light. The elf woman fell to her knees. Yerratoria gasped as she clenched her jaw and held her hand against her body.

Solas looked to Cassandra with only worry lining his pale features. “We must hurry, before the mark consumes her.” Cassandra nodded as Solas said what the Seeker was slowly realizing for herself. Even if she wanted to question Yerratoria further, she would not be able to if the mark on the elf’s hand killed her first.

Varric was beside Yerratoria and helped her to stand. “Thank you.” She muttered out between clenched tenth.

“So… Are you innocent?”

“I don’t remember what happened. I’m being honest.”

“That’ll get you every time. You should’ve spun a story.”

“Oh, I know. I fell off the back of a three headed dragon. The Maker was there, we shared a pint, and Andraste was walking around singing about a cat named Henry. Very touching moment.”

“Okay, you didn’t need to be so sarcastic about it.”

“Oh, please. That’s what _you_ would’ve done.”

“Well, it’s more believable.” Varric made a motion of an axe falling to chop off his head. “And less prone to result in premature execution.”

The group fought another small incursion of demons and wraiths gathered underneath a small rift. This time Cassandra made sure to keep an eye on Yerratoria. The elf did not use magic but there was a heightened response to each motion and movement she made with a dagger or when she dodged an attack from a monstrous demon. It seemed like magic, but Cassandra was not entirely sure.

For her own reference, Cassandra would catch a glimpse of Solas who wielded his staff with lethal precision. No, Yerratoria was not using magic. The very idea that she could and none of them would’ve known left Cassandra feeling uneasy. If Yerratoria could hide magic what else was she hiding?

After sealing the small rift it was getting to the forward camp that was a struggle. The conversation when they arrived turned out to be worse. Chancellor Roderick used every moment to berate Yerratoria. When Cassandra felt guilty and tried to defend the Dalish woman, Roderick’s wrath fell to her. This was mainly out of concern for the Seeker’s seemingly nonchalant attitude surrounding the apostate, Solas, as well as the former her prisoners, Varric and Yerratoria.

Leliana did what she could to diffuse the situation, but Roderick already heard enough. He walked off still muttering about the Temple, Justinia, and the blind idiocy of those around him. The Chancellor even pushed a soldier out of his way and made a rude gesture at the group gathered by Leliana.

Even though Cassandra disagreed, Yerratoria chose to take the path through the mountain instead of standing to fight with the soldiers holding a barricade against the demon onslaught. Cassandra did not remark on the decision because when she glanced over at Yerratoria she could see worry lining the Dalish woman’s features. Yerratoria’s hand was still glowing with a sporadic flash of green light and she was biting her bottom lip to stop herself from groaning in pain.

The Seeker was not the only one that noticed Yerratoria’s discomfort. “Are you alright?” Varric asked as he looked at the Dalish woman. Cassandra was not comfortable with affording compassion to others. Seeing and hearing Varric doing his best set the Seeker further on edge. This was a result of knowing her duty but failing regarding this odd group.

“It doesn’t really matter now, does it? Either we die fighting demons, or this thing will tear me apart. So no, I’m not alright but I will be, if we finish this.” Yerratoria did her best to hide her pain, discomfort, and annoyance at the attention. Even if it was needed, the lone Dalish elf did her best to pretend as though she was irritated by the amount of energy the others were expending while paying close attention to her. Cassandra knew that irritating feeling, the soft tickle at one’s heart. It was what kept her from adding a cold remark to the tense silence that pierced the warm and humorous air that had recently swept over them. The reality of the situation had set back in for everyone.

“You are braver than I would’ve thought.” Cassandra was not sure if what Solas said was meant as a compliment. Especially not by the tone he used when he spoke to Yerratoria. Nonetheless, the Dalish woman smiled and nodded at the apostate.

“Right then, let’s do this before I change my mind.”

Yerratoria took the lead with Cassandra while Solas and Varric flanked them from a short distance. It was astonishing to watch the Dalish elf scout ahead effortlessly. Yerratoria would signal the others with her uninjured hand while keeping her eyes focused and alert. Occasionally, she would disappear and reappear covered in more blood. This only added to the tense uncertainty Cassandra felt around the elven woman.

“If you’re not an apostate what do you consider yourself? I only ask because very few Dalish would be so quick to dismiss their gifts.”

“So, you know many Dalish then?”

“You could say we’ve crossed paths.”

“Crossed paths?”

“Yes, I find most clans to be excessively weary of outsiders.”

“Then at least you know to be weary.”

“Can’t you elves just get along?”

“I doubt it. But back to your question, I consider myself somewhere else on that matter.”

“Somewhere else? That’s vague to say the least.”

“Well it’s the best answer I can give you.”

“Let me see. You use magic, you can kill with it’s aid if needed, and you still have not given me the truth. I say you are an apostate even if you choose to lie and say you are not.” Cassandra was done pretending to be fine with the conversation the apostates were having. Everything Yerratoria said enraged the Seeker further. She clenched her jaw and ground her teeth to the point where it was almost audible.

“If you plan on keeping me a prisoner you will have your answer. I believe the Maker and the elven gods will guide me on my path. For someone of faith you appear to have so little faith in others.”

“The two are not interchangeable.”

“Really? I find that they are. I have faith in the people around me, in their skills, not necessarily their intentions. I have faith in my gods and the Maker because I’ve seen the worst among us, felt their hatred and thankfully I was able withstand it. Because even when I thought my death would come there was a different path to accept and take.”

“You and Leliana will get on fine, if you can keep the part about believing in your gods to yourself.”

“She believes in the Maker?”

“I think she believes the Maker believes in her.”

“Huh, that’s interesting. I’ll have to ask her about it.”

“If we live.”

“Yes, if we live.”

Cassandra led Yerratoria and the others into the scorched ruins of the Temple of Sacred Ashes. The Seeker and Solas prepped the soldiers and Leliana’s scouts for the battle. Varric dipped a set of a half dozen of bolts in poison and watched Yerratoria as she eyed the Breach from their vantage point. She would raise her left hand towards the sky and inspect the odd green light that emitted from her palm. Cassandra kept an eye on both of her prisoners as she finished strategizing. This battle would determine more than her survival but knowing that did nothing to soothe her temper. Victory would be the only salve.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you made it this far, thank you for staying with me. I promise, there will be some HOT scenes in the next chapters.


End file.
